


You Make Everything Stand Still

by Zinc (zincviking)



Series: A Trevelyanian Inquisition [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dyslexia, Fluff, M/M, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zincviking/pseuds/Zinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor, rushed into this world of missions and leadership and reports, didn't expect so much reading. At first he was able to hide it well enough, since there was so little for him to actually read. Now? Now it was a matter of not embarrassing himself in front of his council, all who could read reports in a matter of seconds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Everything Stand Still

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a headcanon that I have for my Inquisitor, and it's fluffy and cute, just a one-shot.

The Inquisitor, rushed into this world of missions and leadership and reports, didn't expect so much reading. At first he was able to hide it well enough, since there was so little for him to actually read. Now? Now it was a matter of not embarrassing himself in front of his council, all who could read reports in a matter of seconds. 

Max knew how to read. He was noble, of course he knew how to read. Years of schooling and tutors from Orlais didn’t go completely wasted, but he was hardly a model student. Even worse, he loved the stories and knowledge from books. But reading? Reading was not his forte. 

He remembered how his mother would let him just pick a book from the library and she would read to him. That abruptly stopped when he was fourteen, and his father insisted that he was too old to be read to. Which, fair enough. Maxwell didn’t see many men wandering around with their mother’s reading to them. So he avoided books after that, sticking with the scraps of info he could get orally, through stories or plays. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as the books, but what could he do? 

He hid it well enough. He cleared a day in his week with Josie, telling her it’s just a relaxation day. In reality, he would be tackling all of the reports that piled up on his desk, dragging his tired eyes through the words that never seemed to sit still. It would take hours, and sometimes he wouldn’t stop to sleep. From dawn to dawn, he trudged his way through letters, reports, and missives from all of the various figureheads in the Inquisition and their allies and then he’d freshen up and go downstairs to meet with his ambassador over breakfast about the various appointments he had that day. 

Of course that didn’t clear his desk. Never. So he took some letters and reports along with him on missions, tucked into his coat or his pack. Not that he did them around the campfire after a long day of adventuring. No, his scouts and his companions would see him struggling over the words, trying to make them make sense in his head. So he would retire early to his tent to slave over the reports until he passed out. 

It was one of these days, in the Emerald Graves. They were camped by the statue of the wolf. Fen’Hariel? He didn’t know elven gods very well, but that’s what he thought Solas said. It didn’t matter who it was, honestly. What mattered that these damn letters had girlish, loopy script that was just not making sense to him no matter how many times he read it. He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes and taking a sip of wine that Dorian had brought along--Maker bless that man--and tried again. 

“Who had the gall to offend you?” 

Max jumped, nearly ripping the letter in two. Then he blushed bright red, folding the letter up. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to look and sound nonchalant, looking up at Dorian with a smile. 

The mage didn’t look convinced as he watched, eyebrow rising. He settled next to Max, eyes flickering to the letter before going back to him. “Your face is as red as your hair, amatus,” Max blushed more, and covered his face, ducking his head. He could feel the shame in his gut and rising up his neck. Dorian, who could read books faster than even Leliana, would surely laugh at him. Max had witness him go through a book in only a span of a few hours while they waited for scout reports, and talked to Solas happily about the knowledge within. It made Max jealous that he couldn’t have those conversations with him, but more so, it made him just feel broken. 

“I hope I can assume it’s not some smutty letter from some Orlesian noble woman since you were glaring at it like it insulted your mother,” Dorian said as he took the letter carefully from Max’s fingers. Max didn’t try to stop him. What could he say? He had no idea what was in the letter, it could’ve been an erotic, filthy thing and he would have no idea. Max had gotten those before, but it was decidedly unsexy when he had to reread them and they were from women who insisted their breasts and ass could change his entire world. 

Dorian opened the letter and Max just adverted his gaze, frowning. He felt like he was going to break down. Dorian was going to read it in two seconds and understand it, and Max would be made a fool. And Dorian would laugh at him. Max absentmindedly scratched at the faint scar across his cheek, a tick he had when he was worried. Dorian noticed, but his eyes returned to the letter. 

“Well, now I’m just confused,” he said a few minutes later. “A letter about opening trade routes and deals with Inquisition craftsmen has you annoyed?” Max looked over, worries forgotten as he took the letter again, unfolding it and reading it. Well, trying to read it. It still didn’t make sense, just a bunch of scribbles. 

“Really?” he asked, trying to find that information. That could be great for the Inquisition, bringing in gold and getting reputation. Josephine would be absolutely thrilled. 

“Yes…?” 

Max blanched, realizing how foolish he looked. “Uh, well, I mean. It’s...annoying because I wish I had read that before I left the Hold so..Josie didn’t have to wait.” Wow, Max, that was eloquent. 

Dorian frowned, watching him. “That was a terrible lie, Max.” 

Max swallowed thickly. He could hear his father’s words: the truth is always the best way. Maker damn his father and his good advice. Max placed the letter on the “finished” pile that held only one more piece of paper, a simple report from the Western Approach. They were having trouble with some bandits and a water source...He sighed. He only managed to clear one report with the several hours he had been holed up in this damned tent. Finally he mumbled his shameful truth, neck flushing. 

“What?” Dorian asked, leaning forward and Max groaned, falling back to lay on his bed roll, covering his face, and saying it again into his hands. “Max, I can’t hear you…” Max whined, childishly. He didn’t want to say it again. Dorian pulled his hands away from his face, and looked at him, which made Max want to hide even more. “What?” 

“I can’t read.” There was a heavy silence as Dorian stared at him before Max sighed, closing his eyes. “I mean, I can read. I know how to read. But...the words don’t make sense. They move, and letters don’t look like letters and when I try to put words together into sentences it just...doesn’t make sense. I can’t read.” More silence. Max wriggled uncomfortably, shame like hot coals in his gut. He knew, when he opened his eyes, that Dorian would be laughing at him. He dreaded to hear what he would say. “You can laugh,” he said softly, voice breaking unintentionally and he inwardly swore. 

Dorian shifted and moved, laying next to him, and Max squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the worst. “I’m not laughing, Max,” he murmured, stroking his cheek, where his scar was. “Look at me?” He asked, taking one of Max’s hands. Max took in a shaky breath before opening his eyes, turning to look at Dorian. He had a slight smile on his face, but in his eyes were only compassion and care. Dorian interlocked their fingers, kissing one of Max’s knuckles. 

“Is that why you hide away every evening? To try and do these reports?” Max nodded, probably looking as dejected as he felt. 

“I know, the Inquisitor can’t read. It’s...it’s ridiculous. Even Sera can read faster than me, and her attention is everywhere at once.” He mumbled, moving closer to Dorian. “Most times I can figure it out, if I stay with it long enough, but sometimes their handwriting makes it worse.” 

“Ah, so the letter did personally offend you. Well, I’m glad I never gave into the urge to right you dirty letters.” Max swatted Dorian’s shoulder, though was secretly glad for it as well. Dorian’s handwriting was as flamboyant as the man himself. Max always let Leliana read his reports. Dorian chuckled, brushing his lips over Max’s cheek. “Do your advisors know?” 

Max shook his head immeasurably and Dorian sighed a little. “I know! They should, but...I don’t know. I was the Herald, I walked out of the fade, I can lead the Inquisition and close rifts and kill monsters and demons and dragons, but I can’t _read_. It’s embarrassing.” 

Dorian looked at him for a moment before sitting up, and Max’s heart clenched. He was going to leave. Maker, Max shouldn’t have told him. But Dorian pulled him to sit up as well, kissing him briefly. “First, let’s get these reports done, yes? Then, when we return to Skyhold, I think we should tell your Advisors that while you can murder the entirety of the countryside, reading is best left to others.” 

“I can’t do that! I have duties that require it. I can’t just dump them onto someone else because I’m broken--” 

“You are _not_ broken.” Dorian said firmly, cupping Max’s cheek gently and looking into his eyes. “You are beautiful, and powerful, and kind, and noble, and a shittalker and a sarcastic little brat, but you are not broken.” Maxwell felt emotion rise in his throat, and he felt his heart constrict again. He leaned in, kissing Dorian to somehow express the emotions he couldn’t put into words. The message seemed well received and understood as Dorian returned the kiss just as passionately before pulling back, ignoring Max’s whine of protest. “Oh no, Inquisitor, you have reports and letters to tend to. And if you insist on doing them, then I will help. I still think your Advisors should know, however.” 

“Wait, what?” Max asked as Dorian picked up an unopened letter, breaking the wax seal to unfold it. 

“I’m going to read you the reports,” He said simply, “And you will decide what Inquisitors decide, and Josephine will finally breathe easy with things being done on time. No wonder you let your reports pile up. Here I thought I was just a fantastic distraction,” he smirked. Max smiled a bit, a breathless, almost unbelieving, chuckle escaping him. 

“You are a _fantastic_ distraction...but are you sure? You..must have better things to do than to read to a grown man,” he murmured, wringing his hands together. 

“I have time to spare, honestly. This is productive, at least, than debating the nuances of elven and human magic with Solas. I never get anywhere with that argument.” 

“I love you.” Max said seriously, leaning in to kiss the surprised look off of Dorian’s face. It wasn’t the first time he’s said it, but mostly it’s been said after sex, sometimes during foreplay. Once when Dorian tripped over a rock in battle and tumbled right into Max who fired an arrow at the same time and struck the giant right in the eye. 

Dorian’s surprise melted away at the kiss and when they parted he was smirking, “Well of course you do. I’m--” 

“Amazing, yes. Let’s get through this work so you can be a fantastic distraction.” 

Dorian laughed as he finished unfolding the letter that was forgotten in his lap, “As you wish, Amatus.”


End file.
